The House Keeps Score
The house keeps score
in places no one checks any longer.
A hairline crack behind the fridge.
The soft dip in the hallway floor
where grief learned how to pace.
We didn’t mark the days
after you left.
We measured time by sound,
how the door stopped opening,
how the stairs forgot your weight.
There are rooms that still expect you.
They hold their breath
the way lungs do underwater.
Even now, the walls lean in,
listening for damage.
Early, I came to understand
that silence isn’t empty;
it’s crowded with what wasn’t said.
With apologies that miss their cue.
With footsteps that turn around too late.
Some nights, the house exhales.
Wood ticking like a body cooling.
I stand still, afraid to interrupt
whatever it’s remembering.
May Garner (She/Her) is an author and poet residing in rural Ohio. She has been writing for fifteen years, beginning her journey on Wattpad, and growing into a published author over the span of a decade. She is the author of two poetry collections, Withered Rising (2023) and Melancholic Muse (2025). Her work has appeared in over thirty literary presses including Querencia Press, Cozy Ink Press, Arcana Poetry Press, Livina Press, Speckled Trout Review, and other.